


Instinct

by LPSunnyBunny



Category: Rain World (Video Game)
Genre: Dominance, Literal Animals Having Sex With Each Other, Mating Habits, No Self-Referral, Other, Unusal Prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:13:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29212476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LPSunnyBunny/pseuds/LPSunnyBunny
Summary: Survival is law. Instinct is law. But sometimes, other instincts, too.
Relationships: Slugcat/Nightcat
Comments: 10
Kudos: 17





	Instinct

**Author's Note:**

> I literally could not believe there were other Rain World fics out there. Goddamn. Celebrated my find with the very first E fic of Rain World fanfic, you're welcome. 
> 
> This was also the weirdest fucking prose I've ever writtten.

Instinct is the beating, driving force that governs all life. The cycles continue, dry and wet. The rain comes and washes it all away unless shelter is found. Eat to hibernate until a new dry cycle comes. Stay alive.

Sometimes, there are aberrations.

Scavengers, curious and cautious, with their spears and bright eyes and fondness for pearls. Prodding and examining, gesturing to come or go and accepting the gifts laid at their feet, clutching the shimmering orbs to their chests and giving up spears in return, precious tools in the greatest time of need. 

Wrapped in red, they explode with great force and noise, leaving nothing but ash and the ringing of ears behind, whatever creature caught on the other end either dead or fleeing. Usually dead. Usually not edible, but there is no time to mourn the lost weapon- another will be found and food must be secured. Food is life, and life must continue. 

Great beasts need food as well. They hunt, stalk, wait, hide, ambush, chase, snap at heels- but can be dodged, avoided, outsmarted, outran, until they give up or they are fought off, meeting the sharp end of a spear.

The scariest ones are the white ones that hide. Tricky things that strike terror when revealed, so many times almost  _ too late,  _ almost caught, but so long as there is a spear, life continues. The struggle continues.

All cycles are the same. Only change is location. Wet, dry, cold, warm, change comes with movement. Always west. Down, through the darkness, always west. 

Dens are scarce. In the darkness, instinct leads the way. Scents are dusty and dull until they're sharp and close and leaping and running to flee predators and crackling, deadly light and snapping jaws. Fling spears, soft impact, retrieve and stab again and again until predator is no more. 

Victory. Survival. 

Den.

Wiggle inside, the pressure of oncoming rain in the ear. Heavy, pounding, overwhelming force that none can withstand.

Hibernation. Curling up in the darkness as the den grinds and closes. A cycle passed. Survival continues.

Rain lets up. Den opens.

Life continues. On through the darkness, past glowing noses, sniffing out prey. Past glowing mice, squeaking and trying to evade capture- pounce on one, grab it, use it to light the way- and throw it to the snapping jaws to escape. 

Den is safety. Curl up inside and wait for the rain to pass.

A noise.

An  _ other,  _ in the den. Dark as the halls and eyes as bright as the sun. It slinks forwards- instincts bristle, crawl backwards, den is shut. 

Trapped. Another, same kind- but  _ different.  _ Unfamiliar, smells strange, tails flick. 

The other pounces. Rolling together, squirming, kicking at it- it's above and heavy and pinning. Yowl, fight, shock and unease but this, too, is nature, is instinct- paws on back, forcing submission.

Go limp. Warble, flick tail. The other is victor. Will it kill? Eyes close. Acceptance. Life is death, too, in the end. 

Tongue, swiping over fur. The other grooms. Licks, over head and shoulders. A soft purr. Weight is no longer heavy, it's comforting. Companionship. Black and white fur together, beings of the same form. 

A cautious purr in return. Licking continues, grooming, until satisfied. 

Teeth in scruff. Dominance is not finished. Limp form is relaxed, is submitting, accepting victor. Tails bat together, tangle, twist. Enticing. 

A fresh spark. A new instinct, before unknown, has hips raising. Tails together bring comfort, teeth in scruff brings submission- but this brings heat. Purring in chest from the Other, as it wiggles close, finding the place it can mount.

A yowl, as heat pierces. Scrabbling against the den floor, but teeth in scruff hold firm, the Other's purr dips into a growl, reminding of dominance. 

A warble of apology, going limp. Heat pierces, pushes deep, growl rising to a purr again. Strange and hot and new, heat feels  _ right. _ Feels like mate. Feels like breeding, movement together, back and forth, dragging inside, deep inside where food goes, but deeper. Different. 

Heat aches. Forceful, deep, rutting and purring and the comfort of tails together as mating is done for the first time, new and strange and good. Made whole by heat and motion, instinctive and sharp.

Soft mewls of submission as teeth grab harder, shake head back and forth. Harder rutting, thrusting harder, speared inside, paws push against den floor and  _ mount.  _

A yowl, heat spills. Deep inside, a mating completed, an ache fulfilled. Going still, waiting. 

The Other pulls away. Heat pulls away, tails stay together, tangled. Warm. Lying down on den floor, tired. Rain is here, hibernation is needed. 

The Other curls close. Noses together, tails twined, purring softly. Instinct satisfied. Soon, pups. Soon, a new den. Soon, a new cycle, rain passed, dry beginning anew. Soon, survival continues.

But now, sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my writing, check me out on Twitter [@LPSunnyBunny](http://www.twitter.com/LPSunnyBunny)!


End file.
